


Honey Tart

by RubyMagnolia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Inflation, Non-con Potion Taking, Unrealistic Belly Size, Weight Gain, belly inflation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyMagnolia/pseuds/RubyMagnolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver falls for a magical trap in the form of a belly bloating honey tart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honey Tart

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with more belly inflating goodness.
> 
> [Kinkmeme Prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/15195.html?thread=59231579#t59231579)

Carver should have known the mages were up to something. They'd been tittering around in the library over a certain text someone had found, copying out sections of the book, and asking for a larger amount of supplies than usual. The quartermistress had made a report of the supplies at Carver's request so that he could pass the observation onto Cullen. The ingredients themselves were not unusual, but Carver thought it best to pass it on anyway.

Somehow, even though he'd ordered the Tranquil quartermistress to keep the investigation to herself, the news had gotten out.

At least, that was the only way Carver could justify the trap that the mages had lured him into. A lemon tart, liberally drizzled with whipped cream and honey and a sprinkle of crushed nuts. The pastry was golden, flaky, and smelt of butter, baked to perfection. It was large in size, enough for six people, the tangy scent calming him from the moment Carver had smelt it. The tart would have been enough to bring Meredith to her knees (or so Carver hoped, vainly, thinking that he might have had an excuse as to why he befell such an obvious ploy).

"Come. Sit. Enjoy our efforts. We grew the lemons ourselves and it would be a pity to not perfect the recipe before taking it to the Knight-Commander," said one mage.

He took up a blunt knife and sliced a generous serving for Carver, taking a small pot of extra cream to dollop it on. If Carver had been less distracted by the slightly quivering, inviting dessert, he might have taken the smile on the mage's lips to be sly. Indeed, he might have noticed the other mages had their hands behind their backs.

The richness of the tart rolled around in Carver's mouth. His stomach complained after a few bites, but the earnestness of the mages around him compelled Carver to finish the whole slice.

Underneath his armour, his stomach gurgled, processing it all. Carver felt a slight bloat – nothing to be worried about. His stomach had always been sensitive to heavy foods.

"Thank you. I should be getting back to my patrol," he said.

Carver started to rise when his stomach gurgled again, a sharp pain making him abort and drop heavily into his seat.

"Fetch some water. It seems our Templar has some indigestion," said the mage that had cut up the tart.

One of the others left, robes whispering around her feet as two others descended upon Carver, one rubbing at his exposed neck and the other squeezing his gloved hands gently. It would have been pleasant if not for the rumbling displeasure of his belly. Carver vaguely recognised the mage in front of him as Rose, while the one behind him had a name that began with an S. Their little leader was Adrian, he remembered that too, now that he was waiting.

He didn't recognise the mage with the water. Probably new, judging by the sulky face she had and the filthy look she threw him when she thought Carver wasn't looking.

"Water for you, ser," she said, holding out a cup.

He accepted it, drank it, and groaned again. There was a slight aftertaste, something he couldn't place, but that thought was pushed away by the veritable storm his gut was making.

"I should retire," he said. "Thank you, but I need privacy."

"Perhaps we should get that armour off? It must be pinching dreadfully, and then you can rest peacefully," suggested Rose.

Her hands went to the buckles, but Carver slapped them away.

"No. No, I'll do it–"

Hands slipped from his neck to his shoulders and slammed him back into his chair. A rope whipped around Carver quicker than he could realise, and had him tied down, upper arms also secured. Rose grabbed his wrists and manacled them to the arms of the chair, narrowly avoided his kicking, and joined forces with the mage behind him – Sybil, of course – to secure his legs, spreading them wide so that his robes bunched and fell between his legs.

Carver tried to smite them, but with his hands secured he couldn't make the movement to do so. They flinched from the ripple of energy, but it wasn't enough to stop them.

"Be a good boy and take your medicine," hissed Adrian, gesturing to the sulky-faced girl to approach.

Her expression had changed, pulling a familiar mask and funnel from her robes. It was used to force feed magebane. Carver recognised it. He'd never used it on someone else.

He foolishly made the mistake of yelling while she approached, and she quickly strapped it on, his mouth stretching around the thick, semi-soft tube. Carver tried to shake it off, to tip his chair, anything, but the chair was heavy, the mask secure, and he felt bloated.

"It's affecting him well," said Rose. "His armour is pushing out."

She tapped his belly. Carver groaned, feeling the tap on the metal against his skin.

"Good. We can have some fun, and nobody will know until they find him missing from breakfast," said Adrian.

Carver made a muffled grunt. It was true. Dinner had only been an hour ago and he was patrolling this area alone until morning.

Were they planning on torturing him? Poisoning him?

He let out a small cry through the tube as his belly seemed to grow larger. No, it hasn't seemed to grow larger, it had. His trim armour was cutting into him, the pressure shifting it, as Rose had observed.

"He'll be a changed man," said Sybil.

"Shame we couldn't get Cullen too," Rose said, idly twirling the tart dish. "It would have been perfect. Meredith, of course, wouldn't have fallen for something so simple."

The mages smiled to themselves, briefly lost in a fantasy that Carver didn't know the details of.

"Let's not waste our time," said Adrian.

The sulky-faced mage nodded, and started to tip the water – no, it was a potion, it was getting thicker in taste, some of it leaking from the corners of his mouth. He tried not to swallow and succeeded until he had no more space and Sybil pinched his nose so he couldn't breath.

He shuddered and swallowed. The pressure in his stomach was almost unbearable, the straps on his armour tight, and tightening further. He was more than bloated, Carver was growing a full, rounded belly.

He could feel his leggings sliding down under his girth, his undershirt and chain mail being pulled forward. When he glanced down, some of his lap had vanished. Carver panicked, and tried to throw his chair over for the second time, but his belly was heavier and he could only wriggle feebly.

Adrian, Rose, and Sybil undid his armour, lifting off the piece that guarded his belly, and then slid his chain up. The tunic was pulling at the sides, untucking from his leggings slowly by their own will.

Sulky, as Carver had come to think of her, rubbed his belly slowly, easing the pressure. The relief was arousing, Carver's cock twitching slightly in response.

Then she picked up a potion bottle and tipped it into the mask. It was thicker, creamier, and Carver swallowed it out of shock.

"That should be enough for now," Sulky said. "Sybil, go tell the others to collect their belongings and wait at the meeting point."

The effects didn't take long to start. Carver's girth expanded, his belly rounding out, full of magic as his tunic started to split. The flesh was pressing into his lap, his legs disappearing underneath it.

Adrenaline seemed to fuel it to grow faster, but Carver couldn't stop his heart from beating rapidly as he ballooned. How big did they want him? He flushed in embarrassment as his tunic split and the underside of his belly filled the space between his spread legs. The cool timber cut into his sides, his lap being entirely covered, and he felt himself pressing into the chair. He couldn't see anything past his gut, flesh rising up, spilling over, trapping him in the chair.

It was heavy, too, as if he had been filled by a gas that was heavier than air. He wasn't about to be up on his feet by himself. Finally, it slowed and stopped, the belly (Carver couldn't think of it as his, and yet it was) rising like a pastry from a too small baking tray, and puffing out what felt like a good foot or two over his knees.

Sybil returned, a string of other mages in tow, and they stared, first in shock and then in pleasure.

"Take the rest of the potions and the mask. We can gag this one. We might get lucky and get the rest into the Templars' morning juice, or find a lingering sneaky one as we leave," said Sulky.

They all had bags with them, Carver realised. And books. They were escaping. His angry wriggling came out as nothing more than quivering on his massive belly, and the mages muffled their laughter at the sight.

"Now you know what it's like to be trapped, one hissed.

They filed past him, each patting his taut, ripe belly, and escaped. More and more mages passed, Carver realising that the entire tower was slipping past him when Orsino came up last with the quartermistress and gave Carver a reproachful look.

"They do so love to play pranks," he sighed, patting Carver on the head.

"You may wish to reconsider your career path," noted the quartermistress.

And there Carver was left until morning, the mages escaping for good, and the templars left with swollen bellies and shame.

**Author's Note:**

> Just pretend this is how everyone escaped from the Kirkwall Circle, idk.


End file.
